by M. S. Parker
He had their attention and his clean-cut smile and sparkling eyes worked their magic. So did the business card he'd produced. I was pretty sure the fact that he was fucking hot wasn't hurting matters either. Trying to break the hold he had on them, I stepped over to the donations clerk.
“Did you finish my itemized list?” I asked, giving her my own charming smile. Unfortunately, I wasn't her type. “I'd like to review it before I leave. Alone.”
I glanced down at the card in her hand.
Cormac Welch, Retired Special Forces. Personal Security, Devlin Pope Industries.
The address of Grandfather's well-known tower office building was listed in the lower left hand corner. In the lower right hand corner was his personal telephone line. The small card, printed in black and white on quality stock, drove home how serious my grandfather was about this whole bodyguard idea. And the fact that he'd obviously known that Haze would need some sort of proof of who he was.
I considered continuing my act. I could tell the women Haze was lying, tell them to call the police before they called the number on the card. Eying my audience, I could see that I'd already lost them. The young assistant was blushing as she gawked at Haze. He smiled at her, and she puckered her lips, looking pleased at the attention, but too shy to smile back. The donations clerk was no better. She bumped back into the register counter, and forgot to hand me the itemized list. It waved uselessly in her hand until I snatched it away.
Grandfather had finally figured out how to get his wish. His control now permeated every aspect of my life. I wasn't going to be able to escape Haze. I took the itemized list the donations clerk gave me and headed for the door without another word. I tapped my foot on the pavement as I waited by the passenger side door of the car Haze had driven.
The car Grandfather had given him to shadow me, I thought.
Haze Welch might have heroically saved my brother, but it was unfair how he was automatically given everything. Everything I wanted. Expense accounts, business cards, a car...and the utmost respect from my grandfather. Yes, I technically had an endless supply of money, but I got very little of my grandfather's regard much less his respect.
Grandfather thought so little of me that he'd assigned someone to watch over my every move. And it was growing clear that person was actually held higher in my grandfather's esteem than I was. Hell, it was in writing, in Haze's fucking job description to save me from my own irrational and unsafe thinking. The words knocked against my heart, and I felt hollow.
Haze unlocked the door as he walked to the car, pulling my empty suitcase behind him. Before I could touch the handle, he opened the car door and waited until I got in before shutting it behind me. The move could have felt controlling and proprietary, but Haze had done it so automatically that I really couldn't be annoyed by it. I blinked back tears as I realized his actions were motivated by a desire to keep me safe. Sure, he was being paid to do it, but he didn't make me feel like it was work. If anything, it felt like it was natural for him to do these things. More natural than anything my so-called boyfriend had ever done. With Ricky, I'd always felt like every gesture was either a burden or preparation for something he wanted to ask of me.
Why did the men who were supposed to love me think so little of me?
I turned away from Haze and looked out the window as we drove in silence. When we reached a stoplight a couple of miles later, I felt his eyes turn from the road to me. I tipped my chin higher, but still refused to look in his direction.
“Here.” Haze tossed something in my lap.
In my peripheral vision, I saw a lumpy green object. “What's that?”
“Your hat.”
I looked down and saw the gardener's hat that I'd worn to fool the security cameras. My heart twisted as the hat reminded me of a silly children's cartoon I'd watched with my father as a child. The main characters had always donned ridiculously transparent disguises in order to infiltrate the most secure of headquarters. My father had gone out and bought us fake mustaches, and we'd sneaked into the kitchen to steal cookies. Sneaking around used to be a game, one I'd always been very good at. Maybe it was one I could still play.
Redefining my afternoon as an escapade instead of an embarrassment helped me relax in my seat. “I got a good start, didn't I?”
“It was clever,” he admitted. “But it won't happen again.”
He didn't smile. As we neared the house, I could almost hear his brain reviewing how I'd left and making mental notes. The competitive part of me wanted to rise against the challenge I heard in his words.
He was still tapping the steering wheel and making his mental notes when I flung open the passenger side door and sprinted across the busy intersection. The crosswalk sign changed just as I leapt onto the curb, and I heard Haze's car squeal around the corner. I dodged out of sight behind a bus stop shelter, flattening my back against the plastic wall.
I expected to see Haze run by on the sidewalk, so when his hand clamped on my arm from the opposite side I let out a surprised yelp. Without a word, he lifted me up and over his shoulder. Before I could fully grasp the situation, he dropped me into the front seat, buckled me in, and drove off.
There were no more stops on our route home until we reached the familiar large wrought-iron gates. As they slowly swung inward, Haze turned in his seat and watched me.
“Taking all of this a bit too seriously, aren't we?” I asked, my tone light.
“I suppose you have a tough time identifying professionalism.”
“Especially in that outfit.” Finally, a response.
When the gates finished opening, Haze shifted the car back into drive. Before he let off the brakes, I turned to him and looked him straight in the eye for a second before I opened my door. His gaze narrowed, and I knew he was about to snake out a hand and snatch it closed again.
“Oops, looks like someone better read his job description again,” I said. I smirked at him. “When I'm on the grounds of my grandfather's list of approved residences, you're officially off-duty.”
I slammed the car door behind me, and walked up the center of the driveway, forcing Haze to wait for me before he could continue.
19
Haze
I did spot checks on Leighton the rest of the day. I'd been foolish to think that she'd understand the importance of my job, the love and concern her grandfather had for her. But she thought it was all a game. That much had been clear when she bolted from the car and hid behind the bus shelter. Her reaction was childish, the act of someone used to getting her own way. Leighton saw her life as a joke. How was I supposed to protect someone who didn't care?
I didn't know why that bothered me. Leighton was nothing more than a job, a means to an end. Why did I care if she flitted through LA as if nothing mattered, as if she didn't matter? She needed a purpose, a goal, but it wasn't up to me to help her find those things. It was up to me to make sure she was safe. That was it.
She didn't answer when I knocked for the second time, so I tried the door. It was locked and I scowled. If I'd thought I could trust her not to have climbed out the window, I would've just waited another half hour or so and tried again. Instead, I pulled out the master key Devlin had given me specifically for situations like this.
“Ms. Machus? I'm coming in,” I said as I turned the key. I gave her another moment to answer, and then pushed the door open.
Her room was transformed at night. Delicate lamps covered with silk scarves softened the brightly colored walls. The bedspread was pulled back to reveal white silk sheets, and the decorative pillows pushed against the headboard formed a luxurious nest. The peaceful, feminine atmosphere filled me with longing. What would it be like to spend one night here? To spend the night in her arms, in her bed. To show her that our night together had meant something to me...
I shook my head and followed a brighter light through a side door.
“This is your closet?” I asked in surprise as I stepped into the separate room with floor-to-ceil
ing shelves.
“This is an invasion of my privacy, actually,” Leighton said, glaring at me from where she stood in the center of the closet.
“Not when you don't answer my knock,” I replied, turning around in the wide, shoe-filled arena before looking back at her. “Your grandfather agreed I need to check on you, even in your residence, and that means visual confirmation every thirty minutes.”
“You told on me,” she said, wielding a stiletto like a weapon.
I raised an eyebrow. “You acted like a child.”
“It's not like anyone treats me like an adult to begin with,” Leighton muttered.
“I'm sorry, what?” I asked. I wasn't sure if I wanted her to answer, if I wanted to have a real discussion with her.
“Nothing,” she said with a sigh. “I'm here, safe in my prison, just playing dress-up. Why don't you give your watchdog routine a break for the night?”
I looked around, searching for any clue that she was trying to trick me. I didn't see jewelry or clothes laid out, no purse sitting close by. Sure, she was trying on shoes, but she'd clearly taken a shower and her wet hair was pulled back from her face in a sloppy sort of half-ponytail. Her face was make-up free, and she looked more like the girl I'd met four years ago than she had at any point in the last few days. Except, instead of my t-shirt, she was wearing a silk robe that made it all too clear that she didn't have anything on underneath.
I quickly turned my attention to my watch, as if the time was of the utmost importance. It was early evening and Devlin had already called to say that he wouldn't be home for dinner, so there was a good chance Leighton would be settling in for the night. The weight of the last few days settled on me and I was suddenly exhausted.
“Goodnight, Mr. Welch,” Leighton said without looking at me.
“Goodnight, Ms. Machus.” My voice sounded stiff, and I hoped it translated into business-like, not wanting Leighton to realize how much her appearance had affected me. Hell, I didn't want to realize it.
I didn't go back to my room, though. Instead, I made my way to the back landing and settled on the overstuffed sofa there. It was technically along the servants' staircase, but it was out of the way and had a view of Leighton's bedroom door. I still didn't completely trust her. If her door opened, I'd hear it, but I'd still be able to doze until I was absolutely sure she wouldn’t make a run for it again.
I'd been here before. Only once, but I knew the place. I'd never be able to forget it because it was where I'd met her. The sound of gently splashing water drew my attention to the pool, and I saw that she was there. Of course she was. Whenever I came here in my head, she was there.
Her skin glistened as she cut through the water, every bare inch slick and wet. I hadn't seen her completely naked, but my imagination had been able to picture it from what I had seen. Slender limbs, narrow waist. Firm breasts just a bit smaller than average, but still total perfection. A thin layer of curls between her legs that were the same brilliant red as the hair on her head.
Then, she lifted her head and smiled at me. She rolled onto her back, her peach-colored nipples hard as the water lapped against them. She crooked her finger, beckoning me to join her.
Suddenly, my clothes were gone, and I was in the water. She slid by and I reached out, catching her ankle. She laughed as I pulled her to me. Weightless in the water, she wrapped her legs around my waist as she settled around me, and I felt her heat even through the water.
“Kiss me.” Her voice was soft. “Kiss me, Haze.”
Her lips glittered and slipped across mine. I heard myself groan as desire twisted inside me, and she slipped her tongue between my lips. I tasted the tang of chlorine, but nothing could overpower the taste that was simply her. My arms went around her waist, one hand settling at the small of her back. Her arms wound around my neck, her firm breasts rubbing against my chest. She deepened the kiss, moaning as my cock hardened against her.
My hands spanned her small waist, and I lifted her. Her eyes met mine, and I read a mirror to my own desire there. The tip of my pulsing erection found her and nudged, waiting for her to welcome me. Her thighs tightened, pulling the tip of me into the depths of her heat.
Locked together, our bodies molded perfectly to each other, our eyes never looking away. Pleasure reverberated through my body, and I groaned with the effort of holding back long enough to savor every sensation, to solidify this moment in my memory forever. I let my hands move over the curve of her back, around her firm thighs, and down her legs. She smiled at the caresses, her eyes darkening, letting me know she wanted more.
I thrust into her and the world shifted around us.
Leighton lay on white silk sheets, spread open, fair skin flushed. I looked at the skyline of LA far below us. We weren't a part of it anymore. We weren't a part of anything but each other.
I knelt over her, dropping kisses down her stomach to the inside of her creamy thighs. I breathed her name there, at the apex of her heat and desire, and she made an impatient sound. Her hips rose from the bed, and I slipped my hands under her to hold her still before plunging my tongue deep in her melting sweetness.
“Oh, Haze, yes, please, yes,” she cried out as I tasted her, kissed her, caressed that intimate part of her.
And then she was quivering around me, her climax crashing against my lips, and when I rose to thrust into her she was still pulsing. I pushed deep inside her again and again before the feeling overwhelmed me...
I jolted upright on the overstuffed sofa. Leighton stood over me, an amused smile on her lips.
“Sorry to interrupt,” she said.
20
Leighton
It was impossible to look away, and I felt the blush rising to my cheeks. Haze blinked, apparently trying to shake free of what must have been an incredible dream. His body was slower to cooperate, and I couldn't take my eyes off the very obvious, and very large, bulge in the front of his pants.
“It's late, Ms. Machus.” He sounded annoyed as he sat up. “What are you doing up?”
I knew it was inappropriate, but I couldn't resist. “What are you doing...up?”
He scowled but didn't otherwise acknowledge my innuendo. “I see I wasn't wrong in my assumption that you wouldn't stay put in your room all night.”
I grinned at him, enjoying seeing him flustered. “Is that where you want me?”
Haze's eyes darkened, and I wondered exactly what he was picturing. Flirting was practically second nature to me, but this was the first time I'd felt any of it myself.
“Is there something I can help you with, Ms. Machus?” He stood up, reminding me of just how much bigger he was than me.
It was my turn to be teased by a vision of what he could do for me. I thought of his powerful arms flexing on either side of me as he arched over me in my bed. My body softened, melted in answer to where he was still hard. It was hard to think, to breathe.
He stepped closer to me, his gaze running over my entire body, and my cheeks blazed brighter. He should have been the vulnerable one, just woken from sleep. He should have been embarrassed, trying to hide his erection, but instead he was standing, challenging me.
I had to regain control of the situation.
I'd come out of my room to find my phone charger and had seen that Ricky and Paris had sent dozens of texts telling me to join them at a party. I'd meant to tell them I was staying in. Neither Ricky nor Paris were people I wanted to see that night. But then I'd seen Haze sleeping and hadn't been able to resist moving closer. I hadn't intended to wake him up, but now that he was, I couldn't let him see how he affected me. I had to make him think I was just as over what had happened between us as he was.
“I'm going to a party,” I blurted it out before thinking it through. Shit. Now I had to follow through. “Do you need to change or can you go out like that?”
“I'm ready when you are,” Haze said, crossing his arms over his chest.
A part of me wished he meant it in some other way than as my bodygua
rd. I wished he meant that he was ready to talk, ready to confess that he wanted me.
“I'm getting dressed,” I said, turning on my heel and marching back to my room before I could screw this up even more.
Behind my closed bedroom door, I allowed myself a moment, burying my face in my hands as I tried to sort out everything I was feeling. I was pleased by the fact that I had control over Haze. I couldn't intimidate or embarrass him. I couldn't even get a response out of him with my usual flirtatious methods, but I could force him to wake up and go out in the middle of the night.
And then there was his body, the clear physical response to whatever he'd been dreaming about. A not-so-small part of me wished I could know who'd been starring in that dream, but I was equally reluctant to know. If I didn't know, then I could pretend it was me, even though I knew it probably wasn't. Haze saw me as vapid and useless, childish and spoiled. I was just a job, an irritating assignment he had to put up with because he didn't really have much of a choice in the matter. I'd never been, and never would be, anything more to him.
“He's just the help,” I reminded myself.
It didn't matter that my body sparked to life when he entered a room. That my thoughts circled around him, mixed with those vivid but long-ago memories. It didn't matter that I couldn't just leave him alone.
“He's an accessory,” I told myself as I went into my closet.
The sparkling baby doll dress was easy to find. Ricky loved to toy with the shining fringe and dangerous short hem. I knew the cutesy design drove men wild. Every time I wore it, I got all the attention. Add a pout and confessions of being naughty, and every man in the room was at my mercy. Another plus? Paris hated it.
I stepped back without taking it off the hanger. The dress gave me a certain power, but it wasn't good enough. Haze would take one look at it and all of his opinions about me being a spoiled child would be solidified. I'd be dismissed by him, not desired. And I wanted to be desired.
